


Sliver

by krissybl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Hurt Daryl, M/M, Prison, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6694777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krissybl/pseuds/krissybl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl's out on a hunt when he manages to get a splinter in his foot. Pissed, he ends up limping back to the prison. Rick is the first person he runs into, and the leader is determined to help take care of him. Removing a sliver from his foot somehow turns into something entirely unexpected. But Daryl sure isn't complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sliver

**Author's Note:**

> I set this at some vague time frame at the prison, really because I felt like it. This is my first work in this particular Fandom, so comments and critiques are greatly appreciated.  
> Unbeta'd and posted in a rush before work. Let me know if you see any mistakes.

Daryl was pissed. He was out enjoying a nice quiet hunt and one of the stupid rotting fuckers had to go and ruin it. Bastard popped up out of a pile of leaves making Daryl jump back onto a fallen branch. The jagged end of which went right through his boot. Most of it missed his foot except for a goddamn sliver that dug right into the arch. He’d yanked the damn branch out of his boot and used it to put the ugly son of a bitch down. He had a hole in his boot and had to limp back to the prison, spittin’ mad and empty handed. He’d really liked those boots, too. 

As he hobbled up to the gate he saw Rick run down to open it for him, a look of worry plastered to the leader’s face. 

“Ya hurt?” Rick asked as his eyes scanned Daryl head to toe, looking for blood or other signs of serious injury. 

“Nothin’ I can’t handle.” Daryl grumbled and kept right on heading for the prison with plans to head to his bunk. He was going to dig the damn sliver out of his foot and see about salvaging his boot. Behind him he heard the gate being secured again and quick steps caught up to his slower limp. 

“I can go get Hershel. He’s just over by the pump helping Carol with some laundry.” Rick said as he fell into step beside Daryl. The archer tried to wave Rick off.

“I’m fine. Just a damn sliver. I can get it myself.” Daryl’s scowl got deeper when he heard a low chuckle from the other man.

“Everything that could have got ya out there and you get attacked by a piece of wood?” Rick was grinning when Daryl glared at him from under his messy hair. “Did it sneak up on ya and yer amazing hunter senses?”

“Piss off, Grimes. Don’t you have plants to tend?” Daryl tried to speed up and leave the other man behind, but it didn’t seem to be working. That little piece of wood was really starting to fucking hurt. It had been a long walk back. 

“Nope. Done for the day. Which means I can help ya out.” Rick looked downright cheery at the prospect. 

“I don’t need help with a damn splinter.” Daryl’s mood was getting worse.

“Don’t be stubborn. It ain’t easy seeing the bottom of yer own foot.” By this point they had made it into the main room of the prison and Rick was grabbing a first aid kit and yanked the crossbow from Daryl to set it by the wall. Despite Daryl’s sputtered protest, Rick grabbed the hunter’s arm and dragged him through the cell block. “Come on. I got a battery powered light in my cell that’ll help me see what I’m doing.”

Daryl complained the whole way as Rick steered him into the cell and pushed him to sit on the bed. The leader dropped the first aid kit next to Daryl, grabbed an over-turned bucket and sat down on it in front of the crabby man. He set up the light on his makeshift nightstand and aimed it towards his own lap.

“Told ya I could handle this myself.” Daryl would argue with anyone that said he was pouting. Rick just chuckled and grabbed hold of Daryl’s leg, hoisting the boot clad foot up to rest on his thigh. He unlaced the boot, slipped it off and dropped it to the floor with a thud.

“Phew!” Rick exclaimed through a cheesy grin. “When’s the last time you changed yer socks? Before the apocalypse?” Daryl tried to pull away grumbling about prissy cops, but Rick held tight to his ankle when the other man tried to rise. “Calm down. Just messin’ with ya. Let me help.”

“Don’t need no help.” But he stopped struggling, leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I ain’t a damn kid.”

“I know ya ain’t. But just let me do it. It’ll be easier.” Rick peeled the sock off and tucked it into the boot. 

“Be less annoying if I did it myself.” Daryl mumbled under his breath.

“Ya sure whine like a kid.” Rick laughed as he leaned down to inspect the damage. Daryl stuck his tongue out at the top of the other man’s head. He was trying to stay surly, but it was hard when Rick was in such a good mood. It had been a long time since their leader had anything to smile about. Rick looked back up and Daryl hurriedly tucked his tongue back into his mouth and put his best innocent look on his face. Rick narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment. “It don’t look too bad but I want to clean it before I try to get it out.”

“I can wash my own damn foot.” Daryl hated being coddled. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to. But his protest dried up as Rick leaned over him to rifle through the first aid kit. Rick’s chest was leaned over Daryl’s lap, while Daryl’s foot was pressed between the other man’s thigh and stomach. Rick was a warm weight from his ankle to his hip. It had been a very long time since anyone had been that close except to conserve body heat or stay together in a crisis. Daryl sucked in a small breath.

“Sorry. Did I hurt ya?” Rick looked genuinely concerned as he settled back with some antiseptic wipes in his hand. 

“Nah, I’m fine. Just hurry up.” Daryl was suddenly all too aware of Rick’s calloused but tender hands where they inspected the damage. Everything in the room smelled like Rick and Daryl felt enveloped by the leather and gunmetal scent. Rick held his ankle firmly and gently wiped away the grime and sweat from the inside of Daryl’s foot. Daryl swore it shouldn’t take this long to wash one little foot. Each swipe of the cloth under Rick’s warm hands was sending Daryl’s heart rate higher and higher. 

“Not too bad at all.” Rick finally announced as he looked up at Daryl. The archer really hoped that the shadow of the bunk hid his rapidly heating face.

“Well…” Daryl had to stop and clear his throat of an unexplained tightness. “Well then I can just finish this up myself.” He tried to pull his foot back again.

“Stop being pigheaded and let me finish.” Rick’s grip remained locked around his ankle and he stared Daryl down with a stern look. Daryl huffed and sat still again. Rick smiled and something behind Daryl’s ribcage twisted a bit. “See? Ain’t it so much easier when ya cooperate?” Rick leaned back across Daryl’s lap to dig through the kit again. Daryl stared up at the other bunk and started inspecting stains to try to take his mind away from the steady weight pressing down on his thighs. He could feel the muscles of the other man’s chest shift against him while he sorted through the kit. Daryl was just trying to figure out if that one stain looked like a pig in a dress or his second grade teacher when Rick finally sat upright again. “Found ‘em.” he said in triumph holding up a pair of sharp looking tweezers.

“Great. Can we get this show on the road?” Daryl really needed to head back to his own space, away from Rick’s scent and warm hands.

“Alright, ya big baby.” Rick grinned again at the surly hunter as he leaned down to figure out the best plan of attack for removing the embedded piece of wood. He leaned so low that Daryl could feel the ghost of the other man’s breath on his skin. Christ, it’d been so long since anyone had touched him with any kind of gentleness. Between the firm grip still on his ankle, the smell of Rick all around him and the warm breath across his foot, Daryl couldn’t quite hold back the small whimper. Rick looked up with an eyebrow raised. “I haven’t even touched ya yet.” And didn’t that phrase just send all kinds of inappropriate visions of Rick and touching running through the archer’s brain. Rick continued, not quite able to interpret the look crossing Daryl’s face. “I’ve seen ya with an arrow through yer side and a gunshot wound across yer scalp and ya didn’t make a peep. Are yer feet just extra sensitive?”

Daryl didn’t trust himself to talk so he just shook his head and stared back up at the underside of the bunk hoping Rick wouldn’t think too much of it and just finish up already. Truth is, ten minutes earlier, Daryl would have said his feet weren’t sensitive at all. They were hard and calloused from basically living in his boots and being on the move so much. But apparently, all of a sudden, that foot seemed to be wired straight to his dick. He could feel Rick’s gaze on him for another few moments before the man finally bent again to start prodding at the foreign body lodged in his foot. 

“I should be able to get this out no problem. But just let me know if I’m hurtin’ ya.” Rick’s voice was deep and concerned, the breath of each word hitting Daryl’s skin. The archer dropped his arms from where they were still crossed over his chest to his lap. He went back to counting the stains, desperately hoping that his half-interested erection would fade before he had to get up. A small “hmm” sound brought his attention back the the man near his foot. Rick sure was taking his sweet time. The ex-cop had put the tweezers between his teeth so he could turn Daryl’s foot this way and that under the light of the lamp. Daryl couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from that mouth. When Rick, finally, put the tweezers to his foot, Daryl could just see the end of the other man’s tongue peeking out in apparent concentration. He was so mesmerized by the sight that he barely noticed the sharp prod at his injured foot. That was until Rick suddenly tightened his grip and pulled.

“Son of a bitch!” Daryl exclaimed and his hands shot to his sides to clench in the sheets as the offending sliver was pulled free in one tug. Rick held it up triumphantly with the tweezers.

“Got it!” He proclaimed. 

“Great. Can I be on my way now?” Daryl was pretty sure he might still be able to get out of there with his dignity if he left right away. 

“I still need to bandage it. Don’t want it getting infected.” Rick leaned forward again to dig through the first aid kit, planting his chest right in Daryl’s lap for the third time. 

“Really, Rick. I can do that on my own.” Daryl really hoped his voice didn’t sound as strange as it did to his own ears. 

“I’ve done this much, I can finish it up.” The rumble of the other man’s voice traveled through his chest right into Daryl’s thighs. He didn’t trust his voice to say anymore. When Rick finally pulled back with some antibiotic ointment, gauze and medical tape, Daryl let out a shaky breath.

“I really didn’t expect ya to get so worked up over something so small.” Rick was searching the other man’s face and Daryl tried to will the heat from his cheeks. With a shake of his head Rick returned his attention to Daryl’s foot. “Anyway, I’m glad I could help. Don’t want our hunter out of commission from an evil little sliver.” When he looked back up at Daryl his eyes were cheerful and warm, but Daryl couldn’t help but be stung by the words. Hunter. That’s all he was to these people.

“Yeah. Who else is gonna keep ya fed.” Daryl was pretty sure he had kept most of the bitterness out of his voice. Something about Rick’s proximity seemed to be making his feelings all too apparent today. Rick must have sensed something because he stilled his hands as they were wrapping gauze and looked up at Daryl.

“Ya know that’s not all ya are to us? To me? Right?” Rick’s gaze was locked onto Daryl’s. The archer swallowed hard at the intense look in Rick’s pale eyes. Something about the way Rick specifically said “to me” made a tiny flame erupt in Daryl’s chest. He didn’t know what to say, but Rick wasn’t looking away. Finally he nodded and Rick, seemingly satisfied, returned to the bandage on Daryl’s foot. He was taking extra care to make it just right. He smoothed the gauze out, wrapped it nice and snug and taped it with all the care of a surgeon. When he was done he just held Daryl’s foot and continued to check every edge of the bandage, stroking gently over cotton and skin. Daryl’s interest had flagged with the sharp pull of the tweezers, but it was perking back up with each featherlight brush of fingers. If he didn’t get out of there ASAP they were going to have a really awkward situation on their hands. He cleared his throat and Rick looked up, still holding onto Daryl’s foot.

“Uh, ya all done down there, Rick?” He asked, barely a whisper to conceal the tightness of his throat. 

“Oh, yeah.” Rick dropped Daryl’s foot to the floor so suddenly the archer didn’t have a chance to stop it from smacking into the concrete. Daryl hissed as it jarred the recently injured appendage. “Shit. Sorry.” Rick reached down to rub soothingly over the abused heel. 

“It’s uh, it’s okay.” Daryl pulled his foot away from the warm hands. “Just, um, hand me my boot and I’ll get outta yer hair.” Rick nodded a bit absent-mindedly and handed the boot with tucked sock over to Daryl. 

“Ya may want to keep yer boots off the rest of the day.” Rick advised, staring intently at the archer. “Don’t want to irritate it.” Daryl nodded and went to stand, but his eyes were still locked on Rick’s and he wasn’t paying attention. He slammed his head into the metal rail of the upper bunk and collapsed back to the bed with a grunt of pain. 

“Oh, shit!” Rick settled a knee onto the edge of the bed and reached over to inspect the possible damage on Daryl’s head. “You really are clumsy today.” He said good-naturedly while he checked over every inch of scalp. Daryl’s nose was inches from the other man’s open collar while careful fingers carded through his hair. He could see the sharp collarbone and a light sheen of sweat on tanned skin. Once again Rick seemed to be taking much longer than necessary to check Daryl over. The situation was going to go from possibly concealable to real fucking obvious if he didn’t get out from under those hands. 

“Yeah, uh.” He tried to chuckle to cover the awkwardness, but it came out a little strangled. “That’s me. Clumsy.” Daryl shifted a bit with the intention of sliding out from under Rick and off the bed. All the while trying not to picture being under Rick on the bed with more than just his boot removed. Daryl kept his eyes down so that he didn’t have to look their leader in the face while his cheeks were on fire and the rest of the blood in his body was quickly traveling south. As he moved towards the edge of the bed he took the opportunity to run his gaze down Rick’s strong torso and slim hips. He was just about to self-indulgently enjoy the look of thighs wrapped in worn denim when his eyes were drawn to something altogether unexpected. Rick was still kneeling on one knee while his other leg trailed back off the bed. The light on the side table was still on, illuminating the other man. There was a definite tautness to the front of Rick’s jeans. Daryl froze and stared. He wanted to move away, he knew he should, but he couldn’t seem to make it happen. Rick finally noticed that the hunter had stopped moving and followed his line of sight.

“Shit. Sorry.” Rick backed away from the bed quickly and tried to cover himself awkwardly with his hands. “Didn’t mean for ya to see that. Don’t mean nuthin, I swear. I’m just gonna...” During his awkward rambling Daryl lost his grip on his boot and it thudded back to the floor. Rick looked over at the sound and followed the line of Daryl’s slack fingers up his arm where it rested by the archer’s hip. Daryl watched, still frozen as Rick’s eyes landed right on his own lap. The leader’s apologizing cut off abruptly and a shy grin spread across his face. Rick cleared his throat and pinned Daryl with his gaze. “Then again. It don’t have to be nuthin.” Daryl could barely hear the hesitant whisper.

“Uh…” Was about as eloquent as Daryl could be at that moment. With evidence almost literally in his face that his attraction might be returned he found himself completely tongue tied. He’d never been really good with words anyway. Thankfully, Rick was.

“You tell me if I’m readin’ this wrong.” Rick said softly as he moved back onto the bed and leaned close to the stunned archer. “You’re my best friend, Daryl. You’re important to this group, to me. I don’t wanna mess that up.” Daryl shook his head, throat still locked up. Rick’s face was so close to his that he could feel heated breath on his cheek. “Does that mean no? I should stop?” Rick froze in his advance. 

“Not gonna, um, not gonna mess nuthin’ up.” Daryl managed to choke out. He felt a gust across his lips, like a relieved sigh, and suddenly Rick’s lips were on his. Daryl’s hands snapped up to tangle in dark curls. He may have been frozen just a minute ago, but now that he knew Rick was on board, there was nothing to stop him. He leaned back pulling Rick with him and more felt than heard the other man groan low. Rick followed him down and worked at shifting them both fully onto the bed. There was a clatter and Rick pulled away with a muttered “damn.” Daryl let his hands pull back, frozen again, worried something had gone wrong. Rick smiled down at him.

“Forgot to move the damn first aid kit.” He chuckled and set the offending box on the floor. He grinned down at Daryl again and dived right back in. Daryl groaned in relief and appreciation as Rick’s full weight settled over him. He spread his legs a bit, letting his injured foot dangle off the side of the bed, and Rick slotted right into place between them. Daryl wasn’t quite sure who the moaning came from when their erections slotted together. He figured it might have been both of them. Rick pulled away from his mouth and trailed kisses over his stubbled cheek to his sensitive neck. He thrust up against the other man as teeth scraped gently against his flesh. 

“Shit, Rick.” Daryl panted, leaning his head back to allow more access to his leader’s searching mouth. “Should have stepped on a branch a long fucking time ago.” He groaned again as a warm chuckle vibrated across his skin. 

“I’ll say. I’ve been wantin’ to get my hands on you since I had to tell ya we left your brother on a roof.” Rick confessed.

“Don’t talk about my brother right now.” Daryl pleaded as he ran his hands up Rick’s sides to grip at his back. Rick chuckled again.

“Sorry. But ya have no idea how ya looked.” He nipped at Daryl’s collarbone as he started on the buttons of the archer’s shirt. “All surly and determined in that dirty old shirt. Staring me down like you were gonna rip me apart. Fuck.” Rick grunted as Daryl pushed up insistently against him.

“Yer weird, Grimes.” Daryl tried to sound disapproving, but in truth he was just shocked to know Rick had been thinking about this all the way back then. Rick just chuckled and finished with Daryl’s buttons. He urged the other man up and pushed shirt and vest off his shoulders, tossing them to the floor. Daryl returned the favor, but got frustrated after the first few buttons and just yanked Rick’s top off over his head. He admired the sight of lean muscles for a few seconds before moving right on to the button on Rick’s jeans. 

“When?” Rick asked. Daryl paused on the other man’s zipper.

“When what?” Daryl looked up, confusion on his face.

“When did ya start wantin’ me? Please don’t tell me it was just because I touched yer feet?” Daryl rolled his eyes and continued to undo Rick’s pants, pulling them down past the other man’s hips.

“When ya said you’d go back for Merle.” Daryl blushed, and pulled Rick back down to him so he could hide the color in his cheeks. “But you’d been looking for yer wife. Figured there was no shot, so I just tried to forget it.”

“They’re both gone now.” Rick’s movements had slowed a bit, but he moved down and started undoing Daryl’s pants. There were a few moments of heavy silence and Rick moved to the end of the bed and removed Daryl’s remaining boot and sock along with his pants and underwear. He shed his own as well before settling back over the archer, both blissfully bare. “Let’s focus on right here, right now.” Daryl nodded in agreement and groaned when Rick’s calloused hand closed around his length at last. 

“Deal.” Daryl agreed and found Rick’s lips again. They spent a few delicious minutes just exploring with tongues and hands. Before long their movements became more frantic and they were coated in sweat. Daryl had one leg wrapped around Rick with his calf hooked over his side. Rick was pressing down with his hips against Daryl’s, sliding against him with abandon. They were panting into each other’s mouths and Daryl knew this wasn’t going to take long. After all the months thinking about what this would be like, wanting to take time to really worship his fearless leader, Daryl figured that would all have to wait. It had been far too long for both of them. Daryl just hoped he would have another chance at this. 

“Christ, Daryl. Wanted ya so much.” Rick breathed into Daryl’s open mouth. “Wanted to prove to ya how much ya meant to me. How much I need ya by my side.” Daryl was blushing again, but Rick’s words were unraveling him. He pressed both feet to the bed, ignoring the slight twinge of his injured foot, and pushed up hard with his hips. 

“Fuck, Rick. Stop talkin’...” Daryl dug his fingers into the back of Rick’s hair and smashed their mouths together. The heat in his gut was reaching a boiling point and he could feel the coiled tension about ready to snap. With a few more heated thrusts of tongues and hips it finally released, flooding between them. Daryl’s head fell back and his shoulders arched as the last pulses left him.

“God damn it, you’re gorgeous.” Rick muttered into Daryl’s bared throat as he thrust erratically a few more times. Rick went stone still above him and the hunter felt a new rush of warmth between them. 

“Ya talk too fuckin’ much, Grimes.” Daryl complained as his breathing evened out. Rick just chuckled and rolled so that he was on the side of Daryl. He draped an arm and a leg over the still blushing man and pulled him in close. 

“Gonna keep talkin’.” The leader said with a grin. “Want ya to know how important ya are. Because I know sometimes, I can see it, that ya think yer worthless. But that’s not true. Not by a long shot.”

“If I tell ya I believe it will ya shut up and get us something to clean up with?” Daryl grumbled with a small pout, trying to deal with the praise he was so unaccustomed to. Rick just laughed and dropped a quick kiss to the pout as he climbed over Daryl and out of the bed. He came back a moment later with a few cloths and a bottle of water. 

“Think we can convince the others ya need to stay off yer feet for the next week and I need to stay with ya and take care of ya?” Rick said as he handed Daryl a wet cloth and started cleaning himself up with his own. Daryl couldn’t stop the laugh that punched out of his chest. He felt lighter than he probably ever had in his whole life. 

“It was just a splinter. I don’t think they’re gonna buy that.” He said as he tossed the cloth to the other side of the cell. “Besides. I have to go huntin’ again. Didn’t get nothin’ today.”

“Fine.” Rick grumbled as he settled back down next to Daryl and pulled a blanket over them, wrapping himself back around Daryl. “But it can at least wait 'til tomorrow. One night of rest for yer foot. Doctor’s orders.”

“Sure, doc. Whatever ya say.” Daryl laughed lightly and tried to get comfortable with so much unfamiliar closeness. It was surprisingly much easier than he thought it would be. He fell asleep surrounded by the scent of Rick, and thinking that a sore foot was a small price to pay for how his day had turned out.


End file.
